


Busy Making Other Plans

by Licoriceallsorts



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, Midgar, Origin Story, Shinra, Turks - Freeform, a story in letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:44:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Licoriceallsorts/pseuds/Licoriceallsorts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say life is what happens while you're busy making other plans. This is the backstory to Rude's life, told through his letters home to his first love. Rude's never been lucky in love, as we know. </p>
<p>I will add more letters as I finish proofing them.</p>
<p>A gaiasanta giftfic for the wonderful nolifeinabox, whose writings I much admire</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Letter

_June 1st , 1994, Midgar_

 My darling Marie,

 I made it! Your Rudy is writing to you from Midgar Can you believe that? I said I would do it, and I did it. I'm a man of my word. This city - Marie, it's a real-life castle in the sky. You have to see it with your own eyes. I only hope that day will come soon. Whenever I see something weird or wonderful I think, "Marie would know what to say about that." You're so much better with words than I am. I miss you more than I can say. I started missing you the moment I walked out of your sight and it just gets worse each day.

 I should tell you about my journey. After I left you I took the footpath across Hangman's Hill and came out by the mill at Eskbridge. Luckily it stopped raining then. I waited for about an hour watching the trout in the river, until a wagon came along. The farmer said he'd give me a lift as far as Croombe if I'd help him with his potatoes. I saw up beside him and we got talking. I told him I was going to Midgar. Like all the young people, he said. Big adventures, fresh start. I don't think he meant anything by that, though. If he knew who I was he probably wouldn't have given me a lift.

 It was noon when we got to Croombe I unloaded his sacks for him and he gave me twenty gil for my trouble, although I wasn't expecting any payment. He asked me how old I was. I told him I was seventeen, and he said with my shoulders I look at least twenty-five. That made me feel positive. Maybe I should say I am twenty-five, then people will think they're hiring a man and not a boy. He wished me luck and showed me the road I needed to take over the downs.

 I walked until it was nearly dark without seeing any other traffic except a car that didn't stop for me. I spent the night at an inn in a village called Ottersbury. See if you can find it on your father's map. Two gil for a atraw mattress in a shared room, not bad. I could have done without the fleas, though. Between their biting and my loneliness, missing you, I hardly slept.

 As soon as the sun came out I set off and headed north until I came to the sea. Oh, Marie, I wanted you to be there with me so bad. The sea is like nothing you can imagine. It's so huge it stretches as far as the eye can see. It made me feel so small and so big at the same time. It moves like the grass ripples when the wind passes over it, and it sparkles like a brook in the sunshine. And the smell - you could get drunk on it. The sound it makes running in and out over the sand is like a purring cat. The sea is a living thing. I lay down in the long grass by the edge of the cliff to listen to it purr and breath the salty air.

 Then I got to thinking about Bruno. You know he's never far from my mind. It seemed so wrong that I'm still alive, able to enjoy all of this, the smell of the sea and the warmth of the sun on my face. I felt like I'd stolen it from him. I won't lie to you, Marie: for a while I thought about jumping off that cliff and not having to deal with any of this any more. But I didn't, because of you. I just cried. And then I fell asleep and when I woke up one side of my face was sunburnt.

 I didn't find an inn that evening, and after my long sleep by the sea, and with everything I had on my mind, I wasn't tired, so I kept walking all night. The moon was full. I didn't see many creatures, just a couple of muu that I avoided, and a pair of levrikon that ran off when I threw stones at them. There was a elfadunk on the beach that I saw from the cliff-top. My only direct encounter was with a wolf, but I gave it a good pummeling and it fled with its tail between its legs. The wilderness isn't nearly as dangerous as your father makes it out to be, not if you know what you're doing. Anyway, he'd probably just think it was a shame the wolf didn't get me, and he wouldn't be the only one. You know it's true.

 This is turning into a longer letter than I planned. I didn't think I'd find so much to say. I want to tell you everything, but I'll have to cut it short or I'll run out of paper and it's expensive here. Everything is so expensive! Bread is three gil a loaf. A dorm room in an inn is ten gil. I'll have to get a job fast, before I run out of money.

 When the sun came up I found a road with a signpost and by following the signposts I made it to Kalm. I'm trying to think how to describe it. It's a beautiful old city, like a fairy-tale castle - and Midgar's like something you'd only see in a movie. Everywhere you look in Kalm you can see the mark of Shinra, the red and gold diamond in a square. It's on the water-tower, on the town gates, in the shops, in the stained-glass window over the railway station door, on the railway timetable, on the breast of the ticketmaster's uniform, and on the engine of the train and all its cars. I felt like I'd already arrived.

 I would have liked to stay and look around the city, but I was afraid my money wouldn't last if I started acting like a grockel, so I went straight to the station. There was a Midgar train waiting at the platform and a crowd of people milling around. I asked someone when the train was leaving. She said it had been delayed because of an accident. The stoker - he's the man who shovels the coal into the engine, I know that now - had fallen off the running board and broken his leg, and they were waiting for a replacement to be sent out from Midgar. Nobody knew how long that would take. Everyone was complaining.

 Well, you know me, Marie. When I see a problem, I solve it. I found the driver of the train and asked him if I could help. He looked me over and he said he reckoned I could. He made a call to his bosses and they said it was all right. So that's the story of how I got to Midgar, Marie - literally under my own steam. I think that's a good omen.

The train driver, Otis, was a nice guy. He liked me because I'm a hard worker and I picked up the knack quickly, not that it's hard to shovel coal into a furnace. He said the railway was always looking for good workers, and if I wanted he'd put in a word for me.

And I won't say I didn't think about it. But I didn't come all this way just to be a labourer. I want to make you proud. You've been my angel. There aren't many girls who would have stuck by their man the way you did. You deserve the best. I love you so much, Marie. I miss you so badly. And I miss Bruno. You're the only person I can say that to. Nobody else would believe me.

Don't let your father know I'm writing to you. He'd find some way to stop it. Just remember that I love you. You're my reason for living. I promise I will be worthy of you.

    Only and forever yours

          Rudy


	2. Second Letter

_8th June 1994, Wall Market, Midgar_

 My darling Marie

 I am now officially a citizen of Midgar. Today I received my residence permit, which means you can finally send letters to me. C Ward, Lower Sector 5, that's my address. The place I'm actually living is called the In'N'Out Motel in Wall Market, but you can't put a street address on an envelope. I have to go the ward office to pick up my post and show them my residency card with my photograph on it before they'll give it me. I'm staying in Wall Market, because Otis, the train driver, told me it's the best place to finding work.

Wall Market is definitely not a place my grandaddy would approve of. That's probably, partly, why I love it here. People call it "the world in a city". Because we're deep under the plate we don't get much natural light. We rely on street lighting and floodlights from the underside of the plate. They switch these up and dim these down to copy the pattern of the day, but they never turn them off. This place never sleeps. It feels dangerous - it is dangerous, there's thugs here who would cut your throat to steal your shoes - but I can look after myself. Having to keep on my toes makes me feel alive.

There's this constant buzz of energy everywhere. Everybody's hustling \- that means using their wits to earn a gil. At any given moment you can hear a dozen different languages being spoken. Just going for a walk in Wall Market is as good entertainment as going to a movie. Which is a good thing for me, because I don't have four gil to spare for a movie ticket. I'm skint, Marie. Mrs Melek - she's the lady who runs the inn, she's a nice woman - worries about me, she thinks because I'm such a hick I'm sure to get my pocket picked, but what I haven't told her yet is that my pockets are already empty. This will have to be the last letter you get from me until I can earn some money.

I wish I could tell you about the upper city, but it doesn't look like I'll be seeing it any time soon. The only way up to the Plate is by train and nobody's allowed on the train without a pass. People who work for Shinra get a free pass. Everyone else has to buy one. They cost an arm and leg, and I need my arms and legs for work. You have to buy the residency permit as well. One hundred gil! That pretty much cleaned me out. And then when I went back the next day to pick it up, the damned clerk pulled a fast one, excuse my language. He said he'd mislaid it. He was fussing with the papers on his desk and opening all his drawers making a show of looking for it, and I'm standing there looking like I was born yesterday. I thought he really had mislaid it. Then the lady behind me in the queue nudged me and whispered, "Give him twenty gil, that should do it. He can see it's all you're good for."

It took a moment for her meaning to sink in. Then - well, you would have been proud of my self-control, Marie. I wanted to knock his block off. Just thinking how much he must earn in a week makes my blood boil. What gives him the right to rob poor people of their money? He only does it because he knows he can get away with it. There were two soldiers - only they don't call them soldiers, they call them Public Safety Maintenance Officers - standing right there turning a blind eye. Luckily, the lady behind me saw how angry I was and she put her hand on my arm and said really softly, "Don't. You can't win."

It wasn't what she said, but her calm voice that reminded me of you, and of my promise to you. So I didn't take a swing at him, though I wish I could have. I just handed over the twenty gil. But it hurt, Marie, and it hurts even more when I think about all the other poor people he must swindle every day. It's not right.

The lady caught me up outside. She asked me if I was new in Midgar. I said, "I guess that's obvious." She said she could tell from my accent that I was from out east. Then she asked me how old I was. I said twenty-three, just to see if she'd believe me. She didn't doubt it. Then she asked me if I was looking for work.

Now don't you go getting any funny ideas, Marie. She was an older woman, thirty, maybe thirty-five, and I could tell just by looking at her she was what granddaddy would call a shady lady. The paint on her face was so thick she could hardly crack a smile. Because she'd helped me in the ward office I didn't want to be rude, so I thanked her and said I was planning on getting an apprenticeship. She looked me up and down like a calf at auction. I almost expected her to check my teeth. I could see she had something she wanted to say. But all she did was shrug, "Well, good luck," and then she gave me a card and said if I ever changed my mind I should call that number, they're always looking for strong young guys for security work.

I didn't look at the card until she'd gone. It was a card from The Honeybee Inn. Forgive me for being blunt, but, it's a whorehouse, Marie. The most notorious in Wall Market. Run by a gangster. You wouldn't want me working in a place like that. Anyway, I'd rather starve than prove your father right. 

I never told you this, but the day before I left, when your father and I had that row and he told me I could never see you again - He said I had bad blood on my hands and bad blood was fated to come to a bad end. If I didn't die in prison, I'd be an old drunk sweeping the floor in a whorehouse for small change. Those were the exact words he used.

And maybe I deserved that, but you know what does make me angry? His lack of faith in your judgement. I love you more than my own life, Marie. Everything I do, I do for you. I will dig myself out of this hole if it kills me. I am determined to be the kind of man you deserve.

I've had an idea. Tomorrow I'll go to the railway depot, see if I can find Otis and talk to him about a job. Shoveling coal is not my dream job, but at least it's a start. Just keep believing in me, Marie. Write to me as soon as you can. You are the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing I think of at night.

            With all my love forever

                        Your

                                    Rudy


	3. Third Letter

_18th June 1994, Wall Market, Midgar_

 My darling Marie

The good news is, I have a job.

It's not the job on the railway. I did go to see Mr Otis, but when I got there, they told me he was dead. I was stunned. Apparently he was killed last week when some punks put a concrete slab on the line and his train derailed. Mrs Melek had told me it had been on the news but I wasn't really paying attention. I didn't know it was him. He was such a kind man, encouraging and helpful. Why would anyone want to kill him? What kind of people do that? How could they think his life was theirs to take away? I know that might sound hypocritical coming from me, but they killed him deliberately, just to prove a point. Mrs Melek says they're anti-Shinra activists, but I don't see that Shinra does anything so bad it would justify taking someone's life in protest. He was just doing his job. It seems so strange that I only met him a couple of weeks ago and now he's dead. It really puts my own problems into proportion.

I couldn't ask for work after hearing that news. I would have felt like a vulture. It was a long walk back to the inn from the central depot, three sectors, three checkpoints. When I finally got back, Mr Melek was out, probably at the bookies - that's where he spends his afternoons - and Mrs Melek was having conniption fits because some creature had got into the cellar. I could hear it crashing around. Expecting a rat, I armed myself with a broomstick and tiptoed down the stairs - but it was a hedgehog pie the size of one of my granddaddy's pigs, red as an apple, and it was rolling around in the remains of a broken beer barrel, blind drunk, farting sparks. I didn't even know creatures could get drunk. It must have come in through the old coal chute, Mr Melek never sealed it properly after they switched to mako. I broke its neck nice and clean with the broom handle, and then put it in a sack so Mrs Melek wouldn't have to see it, and I carried outside to the yard and burned it. The smell was awful.

Mrs Melek is deathly afraid of creatures. She calls them monsters. She says there's getting to be more and more of them all the time. I think it's probably the garbage that attracts them. There's garbage everywhere down in the slums.

Mrs Melek poured herself a gin to settle her nerves and gave me one too. I don't like gin but I didn't want to be impolite. The Meleks have been really kind to me, letting me stay here for free until I get on my feet, in return for doing odd jobs around the place - like pest control. She asked me how the job hunt was going and I told her it was pretty grim.

Then she asked me, like she does every day, if I've thought about joining the army. The last thing I want is to get sent to Wutai, but I don't tell her that. Their own son George is in the army, so I'm not going to say anything negative. I tell her the truth: that I made someone special a promise. Mrs Melek doesn't pry. She's nice that way. She just uses her own imagination and winks at me.

Then she says, she and Mr Melek have been talking it over and they'd like to take me on full time. Since George enlisted, they've felt the need for someone young and strong about the place, and they like me because I have such nice manners. Country manners, she calls them. I'll go on doing what I've already been doing for them: moving beer crates, polishing floors, washing pots, climbing up on the roof to brush off the debris that falls from the plate, killing creatures....

She said, "I know it's not your dream job, but it'll keep body and soul together while you look around for something better." That touched me, Marie. Anyway, I'm not exactly in a position right now to turn down their offer.

One thing I've learned since coming to Midgar is that guys like me are ten a gil down here. I see them everywhere I look, sleeping in concrete pipes and picking food out of dustbins. At least I never had to sink _that_ low. And at least my job doesn't involve anything illegal.

Are you getting my letters, Marie? I would love to hear from you. Please write to me soon - C Ward, Lower Sector 5. Thinking of you is what keeps me strong.

Yours forever,

Your loving Rudy

           


	4. Fourth Letter

_10th July, 1994, Wall Market, Midgar_

 Dearest Marie

Your letters to me aren't getting through. At first I thought the postmaster at the ward office was holding out for a bribe, so I offered him fifty gil, but he still had nothing for me. All I can think is that your father is intercepting your letters. It's what he would do. And now I'm worried that you might not have received any of my letters, so I'm sending this one to your cousin Lizzie to give to you. She's your friend and I trust her.

Work is going well. I'm sitting in the motel bar right now writing this. I've just finished scrubbing the bathtubs and Mrs Melek has given me a cold beer. I have to do all the heavy lifting, but I don't mind, it's easy for me, I'm young and strong - as they keep telling me - and they're old. I've had to kill two more creatures since the last time I wrote to you, another hedgehog pie in the cellar and some kind of big worm that got into the yard. Mrs Melek is right, there do seem to be a lot of them around. They're different from the creatures we have back home - not nearly as dangerous, but a lot bolder. They've lost their fear of humans. Mrs Melek says she's seen stories in the news about creatures taking people's pets, and even children. When I first got here I used to wonder why I didn't see more kids playing out. Now I know.

The Meleks don't pay me much, just pocket money. They're generous in other ways. I get three meals a day and a bed in my own room for free, if you can call it a room. It's not much bigger than a cupboard and it has no windows. But I'm not complaining. I'm lucky, and I know it. I _feel_ lucky, Marie. This job is just the beginning. Fate is smiling on me. I feel it's all going to be okay. Midgar is the city of a million possibilities, and you know what they say: fortune favours the brave.

I have so many ideas. My first plan was to save up my pocket money and enroll in a course at the public college next door to the ward office. Mr Melek said I should try accountancy. You know I've always had a head for numbers. I can calculate the payouts on the chocobo odds faster in my head than the tally-man can with his calculator. Now, don't get the wrong idea, Marie - I don't bet myself, I can't afford it, but I go along to the bookies with Mr Melek sometimes just for fun. Studying the form is interesting. I'm getting pretty good at picking winners. Mr Melek places the bet, and then he gives me a percentage of the winnings. He says I'm his lucky charm.

I have this dream, Marie: I picture myself working in an office, at a tidy desk, with a photo of you in a frame on it, and a window looking out onto the blue sky. I'm wearing a dark suit and a fresh white shirt and a silk tie, with my hair combed back and my hands clean - no skinned knuckles, no dirty nails. You could fancy a man like that, couldn't you, Marie? And I wouldn't hold out my palm for greasy gil or screw over the little people, either. I've been there.

But for now that dream is out of my reach. Just one module on the course would cost me every gil I earn for the next year, and I don't want to wait that long. The lady at the college said I could take out a loan with the Shinra Cooperative Union. Once you've got that diploma, she said, you can pay back the loan in no time. I wanted to ask her if I looked like I couldn't count. Their interest rates are highway robbery. I don't want to start my life above-plate in debt up to my eyebrows. My granddaddy always said, if you can't afford it, don't buy it. We didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things, but I'll admit he was wise with his money. I'd be better off using the time to find a second job and save up.

I've also had another idea. I could start a pest control company. The PSM are supposed to keep the creatures under control but they're never around when you need them, and the people here aren't used to tackling the creatures themselves. They need help. I could make a packet. I even thought of a name for my company. Mister Monster.

Look out - The weirdo has just come in. This is the third day in a row. He's going to sit down at the end of the bar. In a minute he'll ask Mrs Melek for a _kir_. That's champagne with fruit syrup. He's a real oddball. Mrs Melek recognised him right away. She says his name is Cassius Dio. Apparently he's a famous bodybuilder and sports impresario. We can't figure out why he's coming in here to drink. He sits there pretending to do the sudoku in the newspaper but I know he's watching me. Mrs Melek has noticed it too. I don't like the look of him at all. He's got a curly black moustache and oily hair and his trousers are too tight. He must be at least forty. Mrs Melek says I should watch my rear, if you'll pardon the expression. If he tries anything on, he'll regret it.

Mr Melek's calling for me. I have to go. Write to me as soon as you get this letter. I miss you more every day. You are the heart of my heart.

All my love,

Your Rudy


	5. Fifth and Sixth Letters

_15th July 1994, Wall Market, Midgar_

 Dear Marie

Your letter has arrived. Thank you, my darling. Right now it is folded in my breast pocket over my heart. I only collected it from the post office an hour ago and already I know every word by heart. I'm so happy I feel like I'm walking on air.

I didn't say this in any of my other letters, but I've been afraid the reason you weren't writing was because your father and your other friends had turned you against me. And to tell the truth, if that happened, I wouldn't have blamed you.   

I know we've talked about Bruno a million times. You keep telling me to accept it was an accident. You say I have to forgive myself because it's what he would have wanted, and in my brain I know you're right- but it doesn't help my heart, Marie. Accidents don't just happen. It was my own fault. Your father's right: I have an evil temper. I didn't know my own strength. But now I do. I dream that moment over and over. Sometimes it's not Bruno, in my dreams. Once it was my mum, and my granddaddy standing over me saying, _it's all your fault, it's your fault she's dead._

Once I dreamed it was you. I couldn't sleep for two days after that.

What I'm trying to say is, I understand why your father hid my letters from you. I can't be angry with him. If I was him, I'd probably have done the same. You see, he and me have one thing in common, which is that we both love you. He wants what's best for you just like I do. I understand how he feels. He has good reasons for thinking I'm bad news.

But your father doesn't understand me, Marie. He doesn't think I can change. He doesn't believe that when a man loves a girl as much as I love you, miracles can happen. And here's the proof:

Last night, I stopped a fight. Me. I didn't start the fire, I didn't fan the flames, I just put it out. I may even have saved two lives.

It was around nine pm. I was on reception. Suddenly the door to the street flew open and an angry-looking guy came storming in and headed straight down the corridor shouting a woman's name: Jennifer! Jennifer! People get up to all kinds of no good at this motel, but normally we turn a blind eye. It's just business. This guy though was obviously trouble with a capital T so I went after him to head it off before it started. He was knocking on doors calling her name. Before I could get to him, one of the guestroom doors opened and a man came out wearing nothing but a towel waving a broken bottle. The next thing I know, the angry guy has a knife in his hand and they start slashing away at each other. Inside the guestroom this Jennifer woman is screaming. Everybody's opening their doors now and the people in the bar are coming into the corridor to see the fight.

I didn't stop to think. I stepped between them, grabbed each guy by the scruff of the neck and knocked their heads together. That put them both out of action long enough for Mrs Melek to run and get the PSM.

It was only after things calmed down that I realised I was bleeding. The guy with the knife had cut me on the side - but don't worry, it was just a flesh wound. I hardly noticed the pain, I felt so exhilarated. I'm a hero _,_ Marie. Because of me, two people are alive this morning who might both be dead if I hadn't stepped in. Whatever happens to me in the future, that's something nobody will ever be able to take away from me.

And then today I got your letter. So you see, miracles _do_ happen.

Love you forever and always

Yours

Rudy

.

 

_17th July 1994, Wall Market, Midgar_

 Dear Marie

I believe you really are my guardian angel. I believe you are thinking of me and sending me blessings, and because of you, good things happen.

Do you remember me telling you about the strange man in the bar that was watching me - Cassius Dio, the boxing impresario? It turns out he was studying my form. He saw me break up that fight the night before last and today he came to me and said he wants to train me. He thinks I should be a pro. He says I have potential. Potential. Nobody's ever said that before! He said I have a long reach, quick reflexes and a high pain threshold. He says I could make a lot of money. He's offered to try me for three months, and if I develop well, he'll give me a permanent contract and be my manager.

Now, before you say anything, I'm not going to lie: being a pro fighter isn't what I came to Midgar to do. I haven't forgotten my promise to you, don't ever think that. That promise is sacred. But pro fighting is different. It's not brawling. It's a sport. It has rules. It's clean. Yes, people get hurt sometimes, but that can happen with any sport. Your cousin Pip broke his leg playing cricket, remember? There's always a risk.

This is my chance, Marie. I might never get another. I have to take it.

And the money, Marie! More money in a month than I could earn in a year working for the Meleks. Even your dad would agree that the one thing I know how to do is fight. And Mr Dio doesn't take on just anybody. He's very selective. I've done my sums: if this works out, and I save hard, in two years I could have enough money for a flat in the Upper City and a residency permit. If I do well, if I got famous enough, they might even gift me the permit. And then I'd have enough money to take a diploma course for a white-collar job with the company. I don't plan on being a boxer forever. It's a stepping stone.

The training is completely free and Mr Dio will provides all my kit, but I won't earn anything until I start winning prize money, so until I'm ready for competition, I'll still be working at the motel. The Meleks are 100% behind me and said they'll support me every way they can. Mr Melek couldn't be happier for me if he were my own father. He's into boxing almost as much as he is the chocobo racing.

Things are happening, Marie. My future - our future together - is coming together at last. And it's all because of you. You're my strength.

Can you do something for me? I'm going to need bandages to wrap my hands, long gauze bandages, like the ones we use for wrapping the chook's legs when they get splints. Mr Dio supplies them, but I'd rather you made mine for me. Would you do that? Something made by your hands, protecting my hands. It would mean everything to me.

Love you always,

Rudy


	6. Seventh and Eighth Letters

_21st September 1994, Wall Market, Midgar_

Dear Marie

How can a month have passed since I last wrote to you? It feels like just a few days. I've been so busy I've lost track of time. I've got so much to tell you, I can't remember half of it.

I write letters to you in my head. Somehow, what's in my head always sounds better than what I get down on paper. I'm so tired I can hardly string two sentences together. I go to bed at night aching all over and I sleep like someone drugged me. Mr Dio says it's because I'm still learning how to conserve my energy.

I have so much to learn. When Mr Dio said I had potential, what he really meant, but was too kind to say, was that I didn't have any skills. Brute strength counts for little. It's all about technique. Did I think I'd learnt how to stand up when I was a baby? How wrong I was. Mr Dio spent the first two weeks of my training teaching me how to stand so I can't be knocked down. I got knocked down a lot before it started to sink in.

To be successful, you need intelligence. You have to strategise. Keep your eye on your opponent. You have to keep your wits about you.

I guess you could even call it an art. Like you and your embroidery.

I don't know if I ever told you this, but I used to love watching you do your needlework. There was something so peaceful about the way you'd lose yourself in in it. You make things that are so beautiful and yet you're never satisfied. You always push yourself to do better, and - this is the important thing - you know you can do better. That's the joy and the frustration.

It's the same for me with boxing. I love the hard work. I love the sweat and pain. I lose myself in it. I'm happy, Marie. I'm finally doing what I was put on this earth to do.

Love always

Your

Rudy

 

. 

_4th October 1994, Wall Market, Midgar_

Dear Marie

The gym where I train is called "The Men's Place." Mr Dio owns it. The manager is a famous pro called The Beautiful Bro. He likes to dress like a woman. I'm not kidding. Quite a few of the guys at the gym are cross-dressers, and if you think that's weird, all I can say is, that's Midgar for you. I see plenty of stranger things every day in the streets of Wall Market. I'm used to it now.

The first time Mr Dio sent me into the ring with The Beautiful Bro, I thought they were playing a practical joke. The BB is about five foot four. He wears lady's capri trousers and a blond wig and lipstick. I pulled my punch so as not to hurt him; I couldn't help it, he looked like a girl. He paid me back by knocking me out cold. What I learnt from this is that when people say not to judge a book by its cover, I should listen. The BB has fists of steel. Everybody respects him.

Nicknames are a thing here. The assistant coach is called Big Bro. He's my main sparring partner. We're the same weight class. Another guy I train with comes from Wutai so they call him The Flea. An older, bald guy goes by the name of Ramuh. Nobody uses his real name. My nickname is Rude-boy. I reckon the nicknames and the cross-dressing are all part of something bigger that's going on with them. They left their original selves behind when they left wherever they came from, and once you start experimenting with being someone different, there's no limits, I guess.

But don't worry, Marie. I have no interest in dressing up in different identities. The only self I want to be is the man you love.

Speaking of bald men, I ought to tell you that Mr Dio has made me shave my head. He says it makes me look more menacing. It does make me look older. I think I like it, but I don't like the itching when the hair starts to grow back. I have to go to the barber twice a week. Mr Dio pays. I think he owns the barbershop.

We don't have any real women training at the club. Mr Dio runs another club for the ladies over in Sector 7. Nevertheless, for a small fee women are welcome to come in to watch us men train. There's a special seating area for them. We get a lot of Honeybees. They're the working girls from the Honeybee Inn, and when I say "working" I mean - well, you can guess the kind of work I mean. They're earning good money, though. As those kinds of places go, it's not bad, I hear. They come in on their break to eat their bento and watch us spar. Some of them are girlfriends of the guys who train here.

I always want to be honest with you, Marie. I have to tell you, there's a couple of the Honeybees who have made it pretty clear they're interested in being my girlfriend. And I can't say the idea doesn't appeal to me - not those girls, but the idea of having my girlfriend here with me in Midgar. I'm not going to lie, I get lonely sometimes, and then I wish I had someone warm and beautiful to come home to, someone to kiss my bruises better. I want you, Marie. Mr Dio says I'll be making good money soon. I'll be able to afford my own place. I hope you will at least think about it.

And please write to me soon. I have read and re-read your last letter so many times that it's starting to fall to pieces.

Love you forever,

Your devoted

Rudy

 


	7. A letter that was never posted

 

 

_4th November 1994, Wall Market, Midgar._

Dear Marie

Why don't you write to me? Why are you being like this? You're breaking my heart. I don't believe this is your father's doing. You're punishing me, but you won't tell me why. What have I done wrong? Are you angry with me for becoming a fighter? If you'd just written and told me not to do it, I wouldn't have done it. Everything I do, I do for you.

I had my first fight tonight. I lost.

It hurt, but now I'm drunk so I don't feel it. I am so drunk.

Why won't you write to me? This stoney silence is crushing me. Are you trying to kill me, is that what you want? If it's all over, tell me. The uncertainty is driving me crazy.

Oh god, Marie, please write to me. I can't live without you. Please

 

 


	8. A postcard and a poster

_12th December 1994, Wall Market, Midgar. A postcard._

Dear Marie

Victory at last!! Twenty rounds; I won on points. I felt like the king of the world. Mr Dio gave me a magnum of champagne to celebrate. I drank it with some friends and we went out and got my ears pierced.

I wish you could have been here.

Rudy

 .

_22nd April 1995. Junon._

Dear Marie

Have you heard? I'm getting famous. Look at this:

 

I've just come back from the dentist. I lost a tooth in that match against the Wrangler, which I won, seven rounds, knock-out, so Mr Dio bought me a new one. A new tooth, I'm mean.  It was a hard match; good value for money. That's fifteen straight wins in a row. Soon, I'll be a headline act.

I've been all over the planet, to Junon and Icicle Inn and Costa del Sol. I play to full houses. People pay to come and see me. That's right, the the boy your father thought would never amount to anything. Once, President Shinra came with his bodyguard of blue suits. They had front row seats. One of my punches sprayed blood on his shirt collar. I thought the suits were going to kill me, but he just laughed and gave me the big thumbs up, and afterwards he sent a box of cigars to my dressing room with a note thanking me for winning him a thousand gil. When I showed the note to Beautiful Bro, he laughed and said the cigars cost more .

I'm a member of Mr Dio's club now. People want to be seen with me. The ladies all love me. B.B. says they'll have to give me a new nickname: the Heartthrob. I get invited to parties - I went to one at Don Corneo's mansion last week and there's another tonight at the Yacht Club here in Junon. Sometimes it's for exhibition matches. I'm still not tired of drinking champagne. Oh, and I forgot to tell you, I have my own apartment now, two bedrooms, with a fitted kitchen, in a good area, near the edge of the slums. In the evening I can watch the sun set. Mr Melek says he's done so well betting on me he'll be able to retire soon. It's like everything I touch turns to gold.

There's only one thing missing from my life.

Write to me, Marie. Tell me I'm yours, or set me free.

Rudy


	9. A cry from the heart, and a reasoned explanation

_12th December 1995, Wall Market, Midgar. Never posted._

 You knew it would happen, didn't you? Sooner or later. That's why you cut me off. You knew I'd end up killing someone. I swear, I swear I didn't mean to do it. He's a mate of mine, we used to spar sometimes. His name is The Beef, such a dumb name but he was a great guy. He has a wife and kid. Oh God, Marie, what am I going to do? It's my fault, I was pissed. I shouldn't have gone into the ring but the crowd was chanting my name and it went to my head. My mind's exploding. I don't want this to be happening. Please Marie, help me. If you ever loved me, write to me, or come if you can. I need you

  

_27th March 1996, Ward D, Sector 4. Never posted._

Dear Marie

It's been a while since you heard from me. Almost a year. I don't know if you are still getting my letters, but maybe that doesn't matter. Maybe the girl I was writing to only ever existed in my imagination.

No, that's not fair. I know you loved me. You're not a liar. You let me go because you loved me. I've finally figured that out. You knew our village was too small for me, and you knew if I didn't leave I'd end up causing damage beyond repair. Your father said I was dangerous because I was easily bored, and he was right. I used to start fights for the thrill of it. You could see it would only get worse. So you said whatever you needed to say to get me to leave. You made promises you knew you weren't going to keep. That must have been even harder for you than letting me go. You're the most honest person I've ever known.

You knew all along we could never be together. You were wiser than me. My life is here and yours is there. I don't want you beside me any more, Marie. You'd be miserable, and I couldn't endure that, not on top of everything else. Never seeing you, never hearing from you, lets me imagine that you're happy, and that makes the rest bearable. I'm not sorry you persuaded me to leave. You did the right thing. My only regret is that I didn't leave sooner, before the damage was done.

You won't be surprised to hear that three months ago I killed a man in a fight. It wasn't deliberate, but it wasn't an accident. I'd been drinking a lot. I made the choice to go into the ring drunk. I took my anger at you, out on him.

It's taken me a long time to understand that what you did to me was done out of love. I was angry at the way you'd treated me, I was bitter and lonely, and I drank to make myself feel better. I was losing my edge in the ring, too, and that scared me. I was losing fights I should have won. And I was spending more money than I was earning. When you're going up in the world, everybody's falling over themselves to loan you money. What's worse, I have the gambling curse. Craps are my downfall. I was running up debts all over town, especially at the bookies and Dio's private casino.

And on girls. You might as well know everything. I went through girls like I went through champagne, chucking the empty bottles. Of all the things I've done, that's what I'm most ashamed of. I was hurt and I wanted everybody to feel it. But hurting people is like getting drunk, it only feels good while you're doing it. When you wake up cold and sober in the morning you feel like shit.

My future was dissolving in front of my eyes. Big Bro warned me to get my act together or Dio would cut me loose. I knew he was right. Part of me was hoping Dio would tear up my contract so I could leave the whole sorry mess behind and start again somewhere new.

Then I killed the Beef.

The moment the punch left my shoulder I knew it was a killing blow. But I couldn't call it back. I'll never forget the sound of his neck snapping.

The Board held an inquiry and decided it wasn't my fault - it was Dio's fault as my manager for letting me into the ring when I was drunk. It wasn't his fault. He tried to stop the fight but the crowd wouldn't let him. They'd paid their money and they wanted blood. The Board fined Dio 10,000 gil. After that it was over between us. He didn't want to risk sending me into the ring, and I didn't want to fight any more anyway.

A couple of weeks passed. One day Dio called me into his office and told me was letting me go. I felt relieved. The sword had finally dropped. I'd already lost my flat for failing to pay the rent, and I was back living with the Meleks at the In'N'Out Motel, doing odd jobs in return for room and board. They've been like a mother and father to me.

I was back at square one. Just like snakes and ladders. It seemed to me that I'd taken a wrong turning when I signed up with Dio, and now I was getting a chance to start afresh. Or so I thought. 

Only, it turned out Dio wasn't cancelling my contract. He was selling me on. He'd traded my contract to another fight promoter, a man called Dickie Strachan. This Strachan is a nasty piece of work. He's so bad that he's been life-banned from the Honeybee Inn, partly because he and the Don are business but also because the Honeybees united and refused to have anything to do with him. They're afraid of him. That tells you everything you need to know about Strachan. Dio's a wide boy, but at least his businesses are mostly legitimate. Strachan's into all kinds of dirty stuff. Protection rackets. Extortion. People trafficking.

So you can see, Marie, that in passing from Dio to Strachan I'd be falling out of the frying pan into the fire.

There was no arguing with Dio. I'd been a disappointment to him. He'd washed my hands of me.

I told Dio I would not work for Strachan. Dio said that was between Strachan and me. Then he threw me out of his office.

I went across to Sector 4 to see Strachan. His legal office is upstairs from a pachinko parlour. He smokes like a chimney. My eyes were stinging. He told me that I would be free to go once I'd bought out my contract and paid off my debt. I didn't know what he was talking about. I knew I owed Dio money, but I'd never taken a gil from Strachan.

He opened his desk drawer and took out what he said was my contract. He showed me my signature on the bottom of the page. Attached to it was a spreadsheet setting out all the money I owed to Dio, and some I didn't know I owed: my equipment costs, the training fees, my tabs at Dio's casino and his bookies, the fine the Board had charged him for the Beef's death in the ring. The only debt missing was the money I owe at the Honeybee. I couldn't figure out why, then, but now I'm pretty sure it's because Don Corneo wouldn't sell my debts to Strachan. Those two are bitter rivals.

And the kicker? Strachan had consolidated all my debts and was charging me 15% compound monthly interest. At that rate, I'd die owing him more than I did when we started.

I wasn't going down without a fight. I told him I'd never signed that contract. Someone had forged my signature. "That's illegal," I said.

It was a stupid thing to say. Strachan started laughing. "So call PSM and see if they care."

I had to leave; it was either that or punch his face in, but that would just get me killed. He's always surrounded by heavies. I went to the gym to talk to the Beautiful Bro. He told me Dio was leaving Midgar. The city had got too cramped for him. Too many dogs scrapping over too few bones. The fine the Board levied on him when I killed the Beef was the last straw. He'd put his interests in Midgar up for sale and Strachan had outbid Corneo, simple as that. B.B. said Dio had bought a hotel in Costa del Sol and was going into the tourism business. "That's how it is," said B.B. "Strachan owns us now."

"You can't own people."

He looked at me like he couldn't believe his ears. "Don't be stupid, kid. How long have you lived in this town?"

"Too long," I said.

I headed back to the motel, planning to pack my stuff and head off to the Healen Coast, or Mideel, or Icicle Inn, anywhere far from Midgar and Strachan and Dio. I was thinking I could find work as a bouncer or handyman. But when I got back, I saw half the furniture piled on the side of the road, and two bailiffs carrying out the Meleks' television. Mrs Melek was sitting in her armchair crying.

"What's going on?"

She told me Mr Melek was in hospital. He'd tried to kill himself.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't believe it. He's always been such a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. She's the one who wears the pants in that marriage.

"He'll live," she said. "Thank god. The idiot."

They've been married thirty-five years.

It was because of his gambling debts. He'd hidden them from her. I guess he couldn't see any other way out. He was up to his eyeballs, partly from betting on me. He'd always believed in me. And now Strachan owns the bookies, and the Meleks' debt, just like he owns me, and he was demanding payment.

Mrs Melek kept asking questions I couldn't answer. "Where are we supposed to go? What can we do? This is our home. We raised our son here."

I couldn't stand seeing her cry. I told her I would fix it.

I turned right around and went back to Strachan and asked him to let me take on the Meleks' debt.

He wasn't going to make it easy for me. He gets off on making people crawl. "Why should I do you such a big favour?"

"I'll work it off."

"You're already working off your own debt."

He made me beg. He made me call him sir. I promised I'd do anything.

"You bet you will," he said.

So, Marie - like the Bro said, that's how it is. I work for Dickie Strachan now. I'm one of his heavies. The muscle. I do shitty things to people who made stupid choices, following the orders of a boss I despise. I don't blame anyone but myself that I'm in this situation. I had my chance, and I squandered it.

I hope we never meet again, Marie. I wouldn't be able to look you in the eye. I'm only writing to you now because I wanted to be the one to tell you first. It's unlikely, but if news ever reaches home about how I've gone to the bad, like your father predicted I would, I just wanted you to know, Marie, that I was caught between a rock and a hard place. I'm no better than I should be, but I couldn't let the Meleks go under too. Please don't think worse of me than I deserve.

You always did your best for me. It's my fault I was too stupid to see it.

Rude


	10. The Longest Letter

_I'm in Strachan's basement. I'm not sure what day it is._

Dear Marie

I'm writing this to you in my head because I don't have any paper. I don't have a pen either. To tell you the truth, I'm lying buck naked on some straw in a cage. My left ankle's shackled to one of the bars. I'm in a lot of pain. Fuck. A lot of pain. Just have to go with it. Surf the wave. Pain is all in the mind.

I killed two madouges with my bare hands!

Fuck me, Marie, what a high. Fucking amazing. Better than sex. I've never felt so alive, like I could wrestle a behemoth. You don't feel the pain. Just the glory.

Coming down now, not so good.

I think some of my ribs might be broken.

Pretty sure the only reason I'm alive is because that little red-head girl slipped me a hi-potion, and I'm not convinced she did it as a favour. They want something from me. That's all I know.

How did I get here? I wonder that myself.

Once you get yourself into Strachan's bad books, there's no way out.

The good news is, the Meleks have left Midgar. I never told them I'd added their debt to my own. Didn't see the need. Strachan already had me tied up in more debt that I could ever pay. What was ten thousand more? Not that I considered myself bound by that so-called piece of forged shit contract. The _only_ reason I stayed in Midgar was to keep Strachan off the Meleks' backs. I told them he'd forgiven their debt as a favour to me.

They have no idea.

Mr Melek was in hospital for nearly a month. We had to borrow money for that as well. The doctors say he won't ever be the same. While he was still in hospital, their son George came home on leave. He took one look at his dad and said, "I'm not having this," and he went and got a mortgage from Shinra and he's bought them a little place in the village back where they came from, in Lucania. There's a little vineyard, south slope, lot of sun, fresh air. It's been good for them both. They're doing okay.

When they sold the motel they asked me if they could help me with money, but I told them I was good. Anything they could have given me would have been a drop in the ocean. Anyway, I was planning on getting out myself. Once they were safely out of Strachan's clutches there was nothing to keep me in Midgar. My mistake was confiding in someone I thought I could trust. I won't be doing that again. It's dog eat dog in this kennel. Strachan let me run to the end of my chain. He allowed me to think I'd got away so it would hurt more when I realised I'd failed. Fucking sadist.

I got all the way to Kalm before he grabbed me by the collar and hauled me back and had my so-called colleagues work me over and then threw me in here to let me think about it.

The thing is, Marie, I understand the need for men like Strachan. I get that if it wasn't him, it would be someone else. Someone has to keep order down here. PSM - Public Safety Maintenance - exists to protect the company's interests, not the citizens. Not in the slums, anyway. Up top it's different: Shinra rules with an iron hand in a velvet glove. Down here, Strachan and Corneo and the others are a necessary evil. If they don't make trouble for Shinra, Shinra won't make trouble for them. And these slums are a powder keg. You have to be ruthless to show people you're strong.

I don't have a problem with any of that. My problem is with Strachan personally. I hate him. No, _hate_ is too small a word for what I feel. I don't wish he was dead. I wish he was being tortured to death, slowly, painfully, eternally.

I hate feeling such feelings. I hate not being able to control my hate. It shames me.

I'm ashamed to be associated with him. To belong to him.

When I stop feeling shame I'll know I'm dead inside.

This place I'm in, it's underground. In both senses. It's a cellar. You have to know the password to get in here. And you need gil. Strachan has a couple of these places. He calls them fight clubs, but they're not like the fight clubs Dio took me to in the days of my innocence. The Beautiful Bro calls them cockpits. Some people call them bloodpits. I'd never seen one before I starting working for Strachan, although I'd heard rumours. This is where old racing chooks go to die. And has-been boxers. You can see anything you like here if you've got the money to pay for it. Death, sex, sex and death - you can put in a special order. Men versus men. Men versus chocobos. Men versus monsters. Only the winner comes out alive.

They give you a hyper before they send you in. Or they use beserk.

It's worn off now, more's the pity.

They've got some illegal status effect materia too, stuff that's fallen off the back of a company lorry, if you know what I mean. When someone's slated to die in the pit, they might use blind on him, or paralyse, or confuse - whatever the punters have paid to see. Not sleep, though. Nobody thinks it's fun to watch a man sleep through being torn to pieces.

So far Strachan's pitted me against the two madouges, a couple of bandersnatches, and a cuahl. Next time it might be a man. Or he might decide to reinstate me. You never know with Strachan. He's deliberately unpredictable.

The little red-head girl? The suits sent her, the company spooks, the agents. She's one of them. Turks, they're called. Strachan fears them. He tried to hide it, but I can read his eyes. Whether this mean they're a good thing or a bad thing, I haven't figured out yet.

I've seen them before, when I was on the circuit with Dio. I saw the old craggy guy that one time I got blood on the President and he sent me a box of cigars. And the Wutaian one who came over and spoke to me while I was waiting to go into the pit - I've seen him before, too. I don't think he's any older than me.

"Rude-boy, isn't it?" he said. "You've come down in the world."

He was lucky my wrists were shackled. They'd already given me my hyper. I wanted to shove his teeth down his throat, mess up his immaculate white shirt. He'd come to see me kill or be killed. He didn't have a hair out of place.

He said, "My chief of department has a proposition for you."

The old guy was sitting in the front row, right on the edge of the pit. The red-head girl was sitting beside him wearing a flowery dress. Pretty little thing. She looks about thirteen. She could be his daughter or his squeeze or she could be a secret agent, anything's possible here. She's just a kid.

I was grinding my teeth so hard my jaw still aches. I hate hyper.

He said, "We can get you out of here."

"Now?"

"Soon. First, we need you to do something for us."

" _Now_?"

The bell was ringing. He turned away saying, "We'll be in touch."

I don't know, Marie. It's probably all bullshit.

The door's opening. Ow. The light. My eyes. Who's coming in? Must be four or five of them.

That musky aftershave. Strachan. He's wheezing. He really needs to lose some weight. He leans on my bars ."Nice work tonight, Rude-boy."

I'm wrong, he's not wheezing. He's crowing.

"What did that Turk want, Rude?"

"Nothing."

"He was talking to you. They don't do nothing for no reason. What did he want? Did he offer you something? Money? Did he ask you to take a fall?"

I'm thinking. I think I'm going to lie.

"Yeah," I say.

"I knew it!" Strachan's full of glee, slamming his fist against the bar of my cage. "The old Turk dropped a thick 'un on that madouge pair, five to one. You saved me twenty-five thousand gil, my boy."

A key in the lock of my shackles, turning. The door to my cage opening. Rusty hinges squeaking.

"Come on out, Rudy-boy. You're forgiven - _this_ time."

I have to go to work now, Marie. I'll talk to you later.

.

 

I didn't expect that Wutaian Turk to come back, but he has. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours. Whatever they want, it must be urgent. The red-haired girl is with him. She's wearing a school uniform that's too short for her, and has her hair in two pigtails. They told Strachan she's the old Turk's daughter. He believes them. She said she'd come to see the monsters. She _loves_ the monsters. She pouts at me and asks if I can take her to see the monsters while Mr Tseng and Mr Strachan talk boring business. This kid is some actress. Strachan's putty in her hands. "Go on, Rude-boy," he says, "don't keep the little lady waiting." Because what could be more harmless than a spoiled, cute thirteen-year-old girl?

The moment she's sure we can't be overheard she drops the act like a mask.

The Turks think Strachan has something that belongs to Shinra. I tell her Strachan has contraband materia, but she tells me irritably that they know all about that. They're looking for a person - a young man. A volunteer in a top-secret experiment. She says, "We're researching ways of enhancing human strength beyond the bounds of what was previously thought possible. It's a new process. We're very excited by its possibilities."

This kid talks like an adult.

"So how'd you lose him?" I ask her.

"He was on holiday in Costa del Sol. The day before yesterday, someone kidnapped him. We have reason to believe it was Strachan."

Now I get it. This is their screw-up, and they need me to help them fix it.

"Why would he do that?" Though I know exactly why he'd do it.

My question annoys her. "I just told you," she snaps. "Please pay attention, we don't have much time. Strachan deals in human beings, especially unusual specimens. Our volunteer, he's a - "

"Collector's item?"

"He's sick," she says. "It was a side effect of the process. He needs urgent medical attention, or he'll die."

I can't tell if that's the truth or if she's just playing on my emotions.

She says, "Our enemies would pay good money for one of our test subjects. Strachan has the network to handle such an order. It's also possible that he's been asked to arrange a bespoke match featuring our volunteer."

"I thought you said the project was top secret?"

She looks at me like I'm the kid. "Nothing," she says, "is _that_ secret."

So that's what they were doing at my fight. Looking for their man. I can't believe Strachan has him. He'd have to be an idiot. Nobody steals from Shinra and gets away with it. Even if he did take this guy, he'd never have brought him to Midgar, right under the Turks' noses.

I tell her this.

"Just look for him," she said. "Find out whether or not he's here. That's all we ask. I'll be back tomorrow. You can report to me then."

It makes me want to laugh, the way she talks, a skinny little red-head kid giving orders like a queen.

"How will I recognise him?"

"His eyes. You'll know when you see them. They're green, like mako."

"Mako's blue," I say.

Two pairs of footsteps are approaching, one heavy, one firm: Strachan and the Wutaian Turk. I ask her, "What's your name?"

"Shirley."

"No it isn't."

"It is as far as you're concerned." She cocks her head on one side. "You're not as dumb as you look, are you?"

"You're a good liar, but I'm a good listener."

Finally I've said something that pleases her. I shouldn't feel chuffed, but I am.

Strachan and the Turk come round the corner. The little queen instantly morphs back into the schoolgirl, slipping her hand into mine, swinging my arm, wheedling, "What about the dragons? Daddy promised there'd be dragons."

"Dragons are too dangerous," says the Turk. His smile is fake, but I don't think Strachan sees. He only has eyes for this little girl.

"Don't you ever have dragons, Mr Strachan?"

"For you, baby girl, anything."

It's her job to dazzle him, I've figured that out. I know she isn't what she seems to be. All the same, the way he looks at her makes me stomach turn.

They've gone now. Might as well start looking. Where in this place could you hide a man...?

.

 

Well, what do you know, Marie? Turns out the Turks know their business. I've found their man in the laundry room, tied up in a laundry sack, lying under a pile of actual dirty laundry in one of the laundry bins. At first I thought it was a pretty clever hiding place, but on second thoughts, it was the third place I looked, so maybe not so clever. Though not as stupid as stealing him in the first place, or bringing him to Midgar in the second. I don't know what got into Strachan. There must be a hell of a lot of money riding on this.

They didn't tell me their volunteer was a kid. I'm looking at him right now, Marie, and he's glaring back at me. I'm guessing he's sixteen, seventeen max. I can see what Shirley meant about the eyes. They glow like a PHS screen. I bet this kid can see in the dark. He looks a bit crazed. I don't think I'll take his gag off just yet.

"Stay cool, dude," I say. "I'm going to get you out of here."

Easier said than done. He's almost as big as me. I don't know what they've given him, but his limbs are twitching like a spastic. He's not going to be walking out of here on his own two legs - even if I could remove the shackles. They're mythril, the kind we use with the behemoths. A boltcutter would shatter on them.

Think, Rude, think.

He and Shirley look quite a lot alike. They could even be related. Brother and sister for all I know. Only, his hair is reddish brown, fine and straight, while hers is curly and more coppery. The outrage in his eyes is unsettling me a little. I don't want him going for my throat.

Why don't I put him back in the sack and walk away? I could tell Strachan. _Shinra's guessed you've got their boy, boss. Better ship him out quick and cover your tracks._ That would be the smart thing to do. It's not like I owe these Shinra people anything.

I don't owe Strachan anything, either. And I don't like seeing people in shackles.

"Listen, kid," I say, "I can't do this on my own. You need to give me a number I can call. I'm going to take your gag off. Do not make a sound. You're not safe here. Just give me a number so I can call your friends to come get you, then I'll cover you up again and you'll wait here till they come. Nod that you understand me."

He nods.

I'm unbuckling his gag. He gasps and breathes deep, like the air is water he's gulping. "The number?" I say.

It's hard to understand what he's saying. He's mumbling. His lips might be numb. I lean closer.

"What is this place?" he asks.

"A laundry room. Give me the number."

"Why - a laundry room?"

He's not afraid. That's probably the strangest thing about him. Pissed off, offended, stubborn, it's all in his eyes - and puzzled, curious: he wants to know why this thing has happened to him: who, what, where, when. But not scared. And he should be.

I need to wake him up to the danger. "You're in a cockpit in the slums."

"A - fight club?" A big spasm twists his body. "How - wonderful. I've always wanted to see one."

"Yeah, well, they're going to make you the main attraction."

His eyes light up. "Me? I'm the show?"

Oh, shit.

I've met this kid's type before, Marie. We get them here from time to time, oftener than you'd think. Cocky amateurs, spoiled, bored rich brats looking for a new thrill. If the money's right, Strachan'll let them go into the pit against something soft. That's not what he's got in mind for this kid.

"The number," I remind him.

"An actual show? People buy tickets? To see me?"

"To see you get eaten alive."

I'm not getting through to him. He's excited, like someone invited him to a party. "What have they got lined up for me? I hope it's something good. A humbaba - or a grand horn. Oh, or one of those Wutaian Vajradharas - I've always wanted to try one of those."

Marie, _I'm_ scared; I'm sweating here. The door doesn't lock. If someone walks in, I'm dead. Strachan will save this kid for later.

There's no sense in us both copping it. if he won't let me save him, I should stuff his gag back in and leave him to his fate.

No, I can't do that. He'd tell Strachan I was here. I'm in it now. I've got to go through with it.

He's saying, "I'll give your patrons a performance they'll never forget - "

"Sure you will, some other time. But I promised the Turks I'd get you back to them in one piece."

He freezes. I think I just found the magic word. So - this loony is not afraid of monsters, but he fears the Turks. That's interesting.

"The Turks?" he says. "They were here?"

"Looking for you."

"Which ones? Knox? Natalya? Not - Tseng?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Oh, holy goddess." He closes his eyes. "I am in _so, so_ much trouble."

"You got that right."

"Hollander is going to _freak out_. He'll never let me out of his sight again - "

"Whatever. Just give me the goddamn number and shut up. I'm trying to save your fucking life here."

He doesn't like that, but there isn't much he can do with those mythril shackles on him. "Don't be so harsh with me, my dear liberator; I'm feeling a little discombobulated. Let me think. The number you want is Shinra 4901."

Shirley said this boy is part of a top secret project. I doubt they take calls from just anyone. "Is there a code word?"

"Say you're calling for Genesis. Tell them I said, _Infinite in mystery in the gift of the goddess_."

Genesis? That's his name? His _real_ name? What the fuck kind of a name is that?

No time, Rude. Kid has to be hidden again, quick now. I pull the drawstring on his sack, pile the dirty laundry on top of him. 4901. 4901. "Don't make a sound," I whisper. "Just hang in there."

Back up three flights of stairs, the air getting fresher every step. Like everything else, fresh air is relative. Stepping out into the street feels like walking into the sun: that tells you how long I've lived here. There's a general store with a pay phone a couple of blocks away. I'll make the call, and then head back for the final round. No way am I missing that.

 

.

So this is it, Marie. Make or break. They're knocking on the door. I've got Strachan in here with me. He's the one they want.

By the time I got back from making my call, Public Safety were pouring into the club, heading straight for the laundry room. Nobody knew why PSM had invaded us and so nobody knew whether it was better to act like they had nothing to be afraid of or to make a run for it. I found Strachan leaving his office, holding a couple of guns. He threw me one. "Clear the way," he said.

Did he really think I'm stupid enough to gun down a PSM officer in the line of duty? I caught the gun he threw me, kicked the other one out of his hand, grabbed his wrist, spun him round and pushed him back into his office, gagged him with his socks and tied him up with the telephone cord. I made him sit in his chair, facing the door. If anyone shoots at us, it'll have to pass through him first. I locked the door and blocked it with a filing cabinet.

Then we waited. Twenty minutes. They must have come in one of those helicopters to get here so fast.

They're pounding on the door. "Mr Strachan, we know you're in there."

I call out to them, "Did you find your kid? Is he safe?"

There's a brief intermission. You can practically hear them thinking.

A man replied. "Yes. You have our gratitude."

Right. Gratitude. That and three gil will get me a cup of coffee.

"Rude-boy?" a girl's voice pipes up. "It's me, Shirley."

They brought a little girl to a gun-fight? Somehow, I'm not surprised.

"I have Strachan and I have a gun," I say.

"What do you want?"

"I found your lost property. I want a reward. Five thousand gil and a ticket to Costa del Sol. And I get to keep the gun. You can have Strachan."

He's struggling in his chair, wheezing and groaning. If he's lucky, he'll have a heart attack before Shinra can get to him.

Silence. They're thinking about it.

"You're in no position to negotiate," says Shirley.

When was I ever? I'm not trying to negotiate, Marie. I didn't have to come back after I made that call. I could have strolled off scot-free - and without a gil to my name. But why the fuck should I? I did them a favour. "I just want what you owe me," I say.

The man speaks. "If that's what you want, it can be arranged. But I'd like you to hear my counter-offer first. No harm will come to you, I swear. Open the door.

Strachan's fighting to escape. He's rolling his eyes at me, pleading with his eyes. He's too terrified to be angry. Well, boss, it's like you say: you play with fire, you get burned.

I push the filing cabinet to one side and open the door. The old Turk is right there, in my face. He's just a bit shorter than me. He's got a lot of hair for a man his age. One side of his face is a mess of puckered scars, red, fresh, like he got cut up pretty badly just a couple of weeks ago. This man is not someone you want to fuck with, Marie. He holds out his hand for my gun, and I give it to him. I stand aside and let him come in. Shirley follows him and shuts the door. She's wearing a suit today. The PSM officers stay outside.

Strachan's whimpering now.

The old Turk ignores him. Doesn't even glance at him. He says to me, "I am Commander Pieter Veld, Director of Shinra's Department of Administrative Research. I've been following your career with interest for a while now, Rude. You have talents I think we can use. But I have a few questions. Would you mind answering them?"

Like it's a real question; like there's nothing else going on here, and we've got all the time in the world.

He says, "Obviously you're highly intelligent. According to your school records you finished primary six at the top of your class. Why didn't you go on to highers?"

"My granddaddy needed me on the farm."

He nods like it's the answer he expected. "And the job at the tavern?"

"I didn't want to be a farmer. I was saving to come to Midgar."

Don't worry - I'm not going to tell him anything about it being your dad's place and how I persuaded your dad to hire me so I could see you every day. What I've told him is all he needs to know.

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

Wow. Didn't see that coming.

But if he's read my school records, what else has he read? Probably everything. "You know I have."

"I know about The Beef. That was an accident. Was there anyone else?"

He knows about Bruno too. He's testing me to see if I'll tell the truth.

"No..."

"But - ?"

"He's as good as dead. What he is - It's not a life worth living."

"It was someone back home, yes? Someone you knew?"

Strachan's whimpering is getting on my nerves. I wish he'd shut up.

"A friend," I say.

Shirley kicks the back of Strachan's chair and he pipes right down. She must have read my mind.

"Tell me what happened," says the old Turk.

"We had a fight."

"You used to get in a lot of fights, didn't you? What was this fight about? A girl?"

Oh no you don't. We're not going there.

I say, "I was saving money to come to Midgar. Bruno didn't want me to leave. He thought if I didn't have any money I'd have to stay. He found where I hid my money, and he - burnt it."

The old Turk doesn't care one way or another about my money. "Did you break his neck deliberately? Were you trying to kill him?"

I can't say no, but I can't say yes either. I wasn't thinking that clearly. I was angry, Marie. I felt betrayed. I wanted to hit back. That's all I remember. So I say, "Does it matter? He is what he is now because of me."

"Hmm. Would you say you have a hot temper?"

"I've learned to control it."

He's looking hard at me. Taking his time, thinking.

He says, "Our work is primarily corporate security. Information gathering's a part of that. All threats to the welfare of the company must be dealt with swiftly, thoroughly, and quietly. Repercussions must be minimised. The work is often dangerous. All of my agents are trained in a variety of weapons. I saw you know how to hold a gun. I presume you know how to use it?"

I nod.

He says, "Sometimes, while defending the company's interests, it becomes necessary to eliminate certain individuals who lack respect. Could you do that, Rude? Could you kill someone on my orders?"

He gestures with the gun at Strachan. "Could you kill him?"

He doesn't look at Strachan. He's looking at me.

I look at Strachan. His eyes are practically popping from his head. He's pissed himself; we can all smell it.

Shirley says, "The Chief'll do it anyway if you don't."

She's trying to be helpful. She wants me to pass the test.

"Be quiet, Cissnei," says the old Turk. "Let him make up his own mind."

Back home, Marie, I used to feel sorry for the creatures I found with their foot in a trap. I imagined their fear and their pain. I killed them, but I felt bad doing it. Right now I feel like I ought to feel sorry for Strachan, even thought he brought this on himself. But I don't.

I'm thinking about what this old Turk is offering me. Money. Respect. Security. Position.

If I turn this down, what am I going to do? Find a new Dio or a new Strachan to work for, here or in Junon or Costa del Sol? How would that be any different? Shinra's the biggest shark in the only pond there is. I'd have to be crazy to say no. I'll never get a chance like this again. And it's not like he's asking me to cross a line I haven't cross already.

It's fate, Marie. My fate. It always was. Your dad knew. I think you knew it too, didn't you? That was why you stopped writing to me. You knew what I am.

He's holding out the gun to me.

"I have no problem with that," I say as I take it.


	11. The Last Letter? A work in progress

_19th February 2014, Shinra Offices, Edge (second draft)_

Dear Marie

I was glad to get your letter. There is no need to apologise for sending it. Of course it's not presumptuous of you to ask for my help. ~~That's how things are done in this town.~~ I will be happy to put in a good word for your daughter with Commander Reeve. You need to tell me a bit more about the kind of work Bethany is looking for. If she wants a summer internship making coffee and doing the filing, we can find something for her in Shinra HQ. If she's looking for permanent employment with the W.R.O., she needs have a couple of years of experience in one of their areas of need - electrical engineering, logistics, nutrition, or alternative fuels - before she makes a formal application.

It was good to see you last week. I'm sorry if I gave a different impression. ~~My colleagues will tell you I'm no good at small talk.~~ I was in a hurry, and the sight of you took me by surprise. Who would have guessed that after all these years, we would run into each other in the lobby of the W.R.O.? I'm surprised you recognised me, though. The last time we saw each other, I still had hair. It was a pleasure to see you again, Marie. Please don't think otherwise. I recognised you the moment I saw you. You haven't changed at all.

With regards to your other question - yes, Shinra has resumed payment of spousal pensions, but I'm not right person to talk to about that. You need to get in touch with the pension secretariat in the HR department at the Junon office. They'll sort you out. Please allow me to offer you my condolences for your loss. Many good people, your husband among them, were killed in Midgar when Diamond Weapon attacked. President Rufus escaped by a miracle. It was a grim day for all of us, one of many these last few years. I was only spared because I wasn't in the Shinra building when the Weapon attacked. ~~I dug survivors out of the rubble with my bare hands, the same hands that are writing to you now.~~

~~My life has been extraordinary~~

~~I have seen things you would not believe, secret things I am forbidden to talk about.~~

~~I have done things~~

Let's be honest. You have changed, Marie. You've been a mother and a wife and a widow. We've all changed. What else did we expect? ~~As you said, a lot of water has flowed under our bridge.~~ Everything's changed, even the geography of our world. The sea stands at the gates of Midgar. I've been close to death many times. Each time, you were on my mind. That's why I'm glad to have this chance to write to you and tell you that I wish you nothing but good. I have come to terms with my fate. I am at peace with the man I've become. You did the right thing by sending me away, and I will always be glad to help you in any way I can. But I don't think it's a good idea for us to have lunch together. You don't know me any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, nolifeinabox!
> 
> Note on Genesis:  
> Originally, the test subject in the sack was going to be a random SOLDIER candidate. I then realised that this would leave the fic open to readers speculating on his identity. The only solution would have been to labour the point that he really was just a random SOLDIER candidate, which would, in turn, have derailed his conversation with Rude. So I made him Genesis, who strikes me as the kind of youth who'd jump at the chance to turn his fighting prowess into a stage performance. I was tempted to let Genesis have his 15 minutes of glory in the cockpit, but it would have shifted the focus of the fic, so I resisted. Now that he's discovered the existence of cockpits, though, I suspect he'll be sneaking off to them just for the thrill of it. He does love to be the centre of attention.


End file.
